


Swallow the Shine of Summer

by westandvigilant



Series: Devil Town [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Friday Night Lights, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westandvigilant/pseuds/westandvigilant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: "Mamihlapinatapei // Enjonine"<br/>the look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swallow the Shine of Summer

Open black  
over the clatter of plates and fork scrapes:

“—it’s nice of him to take the time, though.”

“Oh, yeah having a tutor was probably—”

“No, no, he’s a smart enough kid, he just needs someone to sit on him, you know. Make sure he finishes everything. That’s enough, right Ép? Ép. Éponine? Hey! Woah, that’s enough!”

 Open suddenly. Too soon. Blinding fluorescents buzzing up top, blanching out the tan in her skin. She blinks her attention back to the men sitting across the counter, the too full mug of coffee sending an oil slick crawling down the formica and into a thick white notebook. 

“Ah, fuck,” she clicks her tongue, and drops the coffee pot in favor of a rag from her apron. “Sorry, guys.”

Courfeyrac tells her not to worry about it, but he’s hissing when he picks up the notebook and shakes it, the black of the coffee already causing the words  _PTX Playbook_  to disappear into nothingness. Marius is busy shoving napkins between the pages, attempting to save the delicate dance of x’s and o’s hidden inside.

She grimaces, tongue shoved between her teeth, but Courfeyrac simply laughs, readjusting his cap to smooth back a few dark curls. Not that Éponine saw. Her eyes were drawn to something across the room as though weighted.

The two men exchange an amused glance, eyes half lidded and smiles half hidden. “Preoccupied, eh?”

“Hmm?” She snaps back to them, neck stretched like an ostrich under a plastered smile.

Luckily, Marius begins to speak before Courfeyrac can loose his obscene tongue. He gestures to Enjolras and Gavroche, both sitting at opposite sides of the same booth, hunched over the table and conversing smoothly, amiably.

“He’s doing a good job with him, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” she says, dreamily at first, then hardening. “Mr. Enjolras isn’t too bad. I guess.” But she’s unable to stop herself from throwing another gaze at the back of his head, hair like a beacon. Watch his arm slung over the back of the booth, the casual slope of his shoulder, a pen in his hand as he talks about capitalism or legislature or divine right or whatever the fuck high school government teachers talk about with their students.

On cue, he turns just in time to catch her. A half second that feels boundless and focused all at once. It isn’t easy, but they don’t what else to do. Not now, at least. Not here. 

They smile slow, in tandem, then look away. Knowing.

Everything will happen in its own time. Soon enough. It will happen.


End file.
